THE EAGLE AND THE HAWK
Words and Music by John Denver and Mike Taylor
I am the eagle, I live in high country
In rocky cathedrals that reach to the sky
I am the hawk and there's blood on my feathers
But time is still turning they soon will be dry
And all those who see me and all who believe in me
Share in the freedom I feel when I fly
Come dance with the west wind and touch on the mountain tops
Sail o'er the canyons and up to the stars
And reach for the heavens and hope for the future
And all that we "can" be, not what we are
* * *
But you never were made, as I,
On the wings of the winds to fly!
The eagle said.
* * *
Solitary by the sun,
The bird that has been empires
Knows his time has well-nigh run
* * *
Bird of the broad and sweeping wing!
The skies, thy dwellings are
Isaac McLellan
* * *
O'erlooking from his eyrie grand
The wide expanse of forest land
John Keats
Eagles may seem to sleep wing-wide upon the air
Alexander Wilson
* * *
High o'er the watery uproar, silent seen,
Sailing sedate in majesty serene,
Now midst the pillared spray sublimely lost,
And now, emerging, down the rapids tossed,
Glides the Bald Eagle, gazing, calm and slow
E. B. White
* * *
Ill fares the land, to hastening ills a prey,
Where wealth accumulates, along with spray.
Chemists and farmers flourish at their peril:
The bird of freedom, thanks to them, is sterile.